Monthly Archives: June 2009

Am I being too cynical here or is the proliferation of happiness studies indicative of something sad and pathetic about contemporary America?

That reminds me of something funny: I remember reading an anthology of American Indian poetry years ago. There was a brief story in it about an anthropologist asking a Southwestern man why so many of their songs were about rain. He said it was because it was so vital to their existence, but they never had very much of it. With that in mind, he said, why are so many of your songs about love?

For sure, there may be a number of reasons that is the case but my suspicion is that the so-called “beautiful game” is not so beautiful to American sensibilities. We like, as good small “d” democrats, our underdogs for sure but we also still expect folks in the end to get their just desert (sic). And, in sports, that means excellence should prevail. Of course, the fact that is often not the case when it comes to soccer may be precisely the reason the sport is so popular in the countries of Latin America and Europe.

Damn – a mere four sentences that manage to combine an amazing ignorance of the game with the usual gratuitous swipe at those inferior loser furriners who hate us because we’re beautiful. I suppose one could take the time to dredge up some statistics that show how the same small group of teams, whether at the club or international level, seem to end up winning the important games and tournaments every year, despite the occasional upset, but I’d rather just point to a much better analysis of why the game hasn’t caught on here. I imagine American self-absorption, obsession with overcompensatory displays of brute machismo, cultural contrarianism and knee-jerk xenophobia have a lot more to do with it. Plus, those spics and Yurpeans wear funny uniforms and fall down a lot. HAW HAW!

Chris Daughtry of the multiplatinum band Daughtry inducted Bon Jovi and Sambora. Afterward, Bon Jovi, with Sambora on a double-neck guitar, performed “Wanted: Dead or Alive,” one of Bon Jovi’s many signature hits.

Earlier in the evening, Daughtry talked about the impact Bon Jovi had on his band. “They’re a huge influence on our career as songwriters, as performers, as people,” he said.

As it happens, I knew Chris Daughtry for several years before he became famous — played guitar together, I went to see his Creed/Tool-sounding band play shows in town a couple of times, all that good stuff. His ex is still one of my closest friends, and she told me after his stint on American Idol that it really irked her to see him playing a Bon Jovi song on there, given that he had always hated them and given her shit for listening to them. She’s gonna love this.

More than half of all marriages end in divorce. Obviously, there’s no way to even count how many serious relationships don’t even make it to marriage before they, too, fail. And call me cynical, but I’d be willing to bet that even among the couples married for decades, inertia plays just as much of a role as love in keeping them together, assuming they don’t actually hold each other in frosty contempt while pursuing their dalliances on the side for pleasure. Love is real, certainly. Romantic love? Especially as a basis for creating stable, long-term relationships? One of the craziest ideas this species has ever invented.

He’s an idiot, she’s a gold-digging whore, goes the common refrain. Maybe. But maybe people are confusing love and happiness. Maybe she made him happy for a while, even though he knew that she really didn’t have much in common with a man more than twice her age. Maybe she figured that he was basically a nice enough guy, and combined with a huge fortune, it was pretty easy to be happy with him, too. Maybe they, like a lot of people, feel that settling for flawed, temporary pleasure beats endlessly chasing after chimeras inspired centuries ago by Provençal poets. Maybe marrying for money isn’t quite as pathetic as being forced to stay married because of a lack of it. Maybe the knowledge that she wouldn’t be attracted to you without your money isn’t as hard to accept as marriage based on ♥True Love♥, followed by years of silent suppers, separate vacations, cutting recriminations, dagger-eyed stares, slamming doors and countless nights spent numbly staring at the bedroom ceiling in the small hours.

And let’s not overlook perhaps the most obvious possibility: maybe a lot of people are just jealous because they’ve fucked uglier, nastier people for free.

You don’t say. Political bloggers focus on the political aspects of an event in the news?

Hey, you know what else is predictable? Some self-righteous douchebag wailing about how terrible it is that the world doesn’t stop spinning while we all mark a moment of silence and somberly pretend that we knew and loved the victim like he was our spouse or favorite relative. Ghouls, ghouls, all of you! The weird part is seeing it on an irreverent humor blog. What next, is the Onion going to lecture people about what the appropriate waiting period is before anyone can say anything beyond “Oh, that’s terrible, thoughts ‘n’ prayers, a tragedy, blah blah blah”?

I mean, shit — if you start by telling me that Yglesias, Marshall and Benen have all said something annoying, I’m already 99% of the way there with you! Do you know how hard it is to settle back with a hot fantasy of expected irritation, read over their excerpted words a few times, trying hard to stroke my faltering righteousness to a climax of vicarious, indignant denunciation, only to have to conclude that there’s nothing really all that outrageous about what they said? You fucking tease.

If I were this abysmally fucking stupid, I wouldn’t want to speak my name either.

So, I guess when Obama was making promises last year about bringing troops home, he didn’t know the economy was bad? What does it say when attempts to defend him are predicated on him being even more oblivious than Dubya?

I thought reading Digby’s comments periodically had inured me to the most outlandish attempts to make excuses for the guy, but holy fuck, was I wrong.

Now I can never unknow the image of a senior citizen accidentally strangling himself while jacking off.

It does make me wonder if this sort of thing has caused a decrease in the number of guys who commit suicide by hanging. I’m picturing some poor schlub, beaten down by life, weary of it all, who decides to use a gun or sleeping pills or jump off a bridge because he just can’t stand the thought of having his final, harrowing expression of unbearable existential pain diminished by the rumor circulating afterward that he was just too clumsy while freaky-masturbating. Just one indignity too far, you know?

Or maybe guys who do hang themselves are going to film the entire event while dressed in winter clothes, just to be safe.

I write in my notebook with the intention of stimulating good conversation, hoping that it will also be of use to some fellow traveler. But perhaps my notes are mere drunken chatter, the incoherent babbling of a dreamer. If so, read them as such.

Vox Populi

The prose is immaculate. [You] should be an English teacher…Do keep writing; you should get paid for it, but that’s hard to find.

—Noel

You are such a fantastic writer! I’m with Noel; your mad writing skills could lead to income.

—Sandi

WOW – I’m all ready to yell “FUCK YOU MAN” and I didn’t get through the first paragraph.

—Anonymous

You strike me as being too versatile to confine yourself to a single vein. You have such exceptional talent as a writer. Your style reminds me of Swift in its combination of ferocity and wit, and your metaphors manage to be vivid, accurate and original at the same time, a rare feat. Plus you’re funny as hell. So, my point is that what you actually write about is, in a sense, secondary. It’s the way you write that’s impressive, and never more convincingly than when you don’t even think you’re writing — I mean when you’re relaxed and expressing yourself spontaneously.

—Arthur

Posts like yours would be better if you read the posts you critique more carefully…I’ve yet to see anyone else misread or mischaracterize my post in the manner you have.

—Battochio

You truly have an incredible gift for clear thought expressed in the written word. You write the way people talk.